How about a kiss?
by NyammiToast
Summary: They were friends, best of friends perhaps. Her heart was broken, taken by the snow. His heart was hers, if only she had realized. A kiss was all he wanted, but he never really got it in the end, did he?
1. The Color of Snow

**Based on Markus Zusak's book, 'The Book Thief'.**

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**Chapter 01**  
**_The Color of Snow_**

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"_Please, please don't leave me!"_

_The girl screamed, pressing herself up to the cold man's body. Her body shook, tears leaking uncontrollably from her eyes. She touched his shoulder, his hair, his lips. No breath escaped, and not a sound was heard. She grabbed his body and pulled hard at his shirt._

"_Come back. God, no!"_

_A warm hand touch her shoulder and she jerked at the sound of a soft, familiar voice._

"_I'm sorry. There's nothing you can do."_

_She shook her head, burying it in her beloved's dusty black clothes. She could still smell him… so close, so real… he couldn't… he can't be…_

"_He's gone. He's not coming back."

* * *

_

The train thudded soundlessly across the grey land, darkness apparent across the once blue sky. Heavy clouds hung low, fat, and just waiting to fall. The light emitting from the carriages gave off a warm yet unsettling glow as they bounced along the rusty rails. Inside sat three figures, alone from the rest. A mother and her two young daughters sat curled up on the cold hard seats, the smaller girl breathing heavily. Her hair was brown, a lovely chocolate colour, unlike her sister's who had bright bubblegum hair. The woman's face watched the younger girls in concern, tense.

A sniff. A cough. A groan.

Anxiously the mother reached across, gently shaking her daughter from her slumber.

"Ami, Ami, get up, dear."

The small girl rubbed the sleep from her eyes unsuccessfully, blue-black marks hanging low beneath them. In a small raspy voice she called to her sister, ignoring her mother's worried gaze.

"What time is it, Amu-chan?"

The older girl turned her gaze from the window towards her sick sister, eyes softening slightly as gold met gold. Sighing she looked at her watch before giving her sister a weak smile.

"It's eight-thirty. Go back to sleep, we won't be arriving for a while."

Nodding soundlessly Ami closed her eyes, comforted by her mother's stroking hand. Once again the carriage was silent. Mama's stroking hand had stopped, and only the quiet snores of her youngest daughter could be heard. Amu watched the darkness, her expression unfathomable. Her mother's words sent her eyes flying back into the light.

"She might not make it, Amu-chan."

The young teen's eyes went impossibly wide. What was her mother saying?

"What do you mean, Mama?"

Her mother's weary eyes looked away, towards her daughters pale face. She stroked her soft brown hair, tears threatening to leak out from the corners of her eyes.

"She's sick, darling. The doctor's said that the pneumonia might… it might…"

She shook her head, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"My Ami, my poor darling baby… why? IF only I hadn't spent the money… if, if I didn't go that night…"

"Mama, no, you can't blame yourself."

The pink haired girl felt her heart freeze in her chest, suddenly feeling more fragile, as if it were about to break. She couldn't bear to see her mother like this, losing hope in her sick child. Ever since her Papa passed away, Mama was always sad and tired. At first everything had been normal, Amu and her sister laughing and playing without a care in the world. But then Mama lost her job, lost the house, lost their money. The cold nights they spent on the street bit into Ami's small bones, causing her to cough and wheeze.

Ami was diagnosed with pneumonia.

"You did the best you could, Mama. You got the money, you paid the doctor's bill –"

Amu fought back tears of her own. No, she couldn't cry. She was the eldest daughter. She couldn't show weakness. She had to be strong, for Ami, for Mama, even for Papa. She couldn't let them down.

"-you got the tickets, you held his hand, you –"

Mama shook her head, subconsciously petting Ami's short auburn hair, tears dripping down her cheeks.

"No, Amu, I wasn't good enough. And now your sister –"

There was a sharp clank as the train came to a sudden halt, sending Amu flying onto the floor. Yells and shouts of other angry passengers echoed down the corridor, and the warm of the light above flickered and died, leaving nothing but darkness. Shaking Amu clambered back onto the seat in silence, heart pounding. Across from her, Mama was sitting with her sister's head on her lap, rocking back and forth muttering a long prayer under her breath. There was a shuffle of shoes as man in a white shirt came by, telling them there was a slight malfunction with the train but that it would be up and running in no time.

"…please Lord, in the name of the Holy Spirit, save this girl from the illness…"

Amu helplessly watched her mother through the black, watched as she held Ami close. The small girl's body was shaking violently, and soft gurgling sounds emitted from her mouth.

"Please don't die, Ami. Please come back to your onee-chan. For your onee-chan, Ami."

Amu had begun muttering a prayer of her own, and together the two droned on for what seemed hours, praying for the safety and health of the sickly girl who was one the happiest child in the world. On and on they went; a wordless chant that sent the whole train silent. The deafening sound thudded down the corridor, hushing the panic of the other passengers.

Amu's heart leapt in her chest as the light flickered to life, brightening up the carriage at once.

"Just a bit longer," the man in white told them, continuing down the hall. "Just a while yet."

There was a sudden cry from the chair across from the pink-haired girl, and she instinctively snapped her head in her mother's direction. A tear, just one, was making its slow descent down her dusty cheek, hanging onto the end of her chin. Amu's eyes flickered to her motionless sister's face. Dull, yellow orbs watched hers, her expression unreadable. Her lips were blue, her eyes unseeing. And so it was known.

The small child was dead.

But nothing could be done, for the not a breath escaped her, and no chest rose. The carriage was silent. Not a sound could be heard.

There was one train.

There were two seats.

There was a mother and her daughter.

And there was a corpse.

* * *

Snow fell that night, as the train drifted into the station. Trees stood eerily still, as if knowing a soul had passed. The moon's illuminating glow sent shadows of silver seeping through their hand-like branches. With a loud creak, the doors of the mottled brown train opened, passengers large and small drifted through their narrow passages, stepping onto the cold frosty deck. Their breaths were fast and ragged as they greeted loved ones, hands burrowed deep into their warm leather jackets.

A young girl could be seen in the crowd, her arm wrapped around her mother, begging her not to go. The over-worked woman smiled at her, her eyes wrinkling in the corners, and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Whispered goodbye. The girl's bright fuchsia hair was spotted white, and from her bright golden eyes flowed unspoken words and tears. But she held them back, because she had to stay strong.

With one final wave, her mother boarded the train. The crowd around her dispersed. The train's doors closed.

She was alone.

The girl stood there, staring at the empty railway tracks. Waiting and watching.

A sound behind her caught her attention, and she turned her unblinking gaze towards the grey steps. A tall man strode towards her, a small blonde girl following in his wake. His face was stern, brows furrowed together as he came closer. The girls honey coloured eyes watched hers with a steady gaze, unflinching. The pink-haired girl glared back, the snow around her beginning to fall heavier.

The tall man stopped, and gave her a scrutinizing look.

"Hinamori Amu?" His voice was soft, rough around the edges. Unpolished. Different.

The girl nodded.

Nodding back, he ushered to the blonde girl, who, without breaking her gaze on the newcomer, quickly grabbed the other girl's small black bag and followed after her father. And without another word Hinamori Amu followed.

Because they would never know.

Never know she had a sister.

Never know her suffering.

Never know what her mother had done.

And for the first time since her Papa had left her in the world, Amu felt her heart break in two.

The snow fell.

* * *

She brushed her fingers lightly across the foggy glass. She ran her hand through her cherry-coloured hair. She crossed her legs. She closed her eyes. She sighed. Nothing she did would ease the pain. She opened her eyes. Where was Mama? Where was Papa? Where was Ami? They had all left her, left her with a family that she did not know, with a girl that hated her very soul. Why?

She did not know.

Without a sound she pressed her face closer to the glass that withheld her from the rest of the world. It was morning now; last night was all a blur. She remembered climbing up the Mashiro's ornamented staircase, marvelling at their lavish walls and carpet. They had everything she would have wanted. _Would have_. Maybe if she hadn't been deserted, maybe if Papa was still alive.

Maybe if Ami hadn't died.

She could still see her face, her eyes staring at nothing. Seeing nothing. Just nothing. She could feel the snow, as real as it was outside, drifting through the air. Covering her sister's small body. Sticking to her hair. She could taste the cold, felt it bite through her torn jacket. Watched as the body was laid to rest. Under the snow. They had buried her in the cold, where it had all began.

"_What time is it, Amu-chan?"_

She had to be strong. For her family. For Ami. As if trying to blink away the memories, Amu peered into the soft white, squinting hard. Looking for something, _anything _that would take her mind off the Mashiro's, from her sister. A flashed of purple caught her eye. Suddenly all her senses came to life, and she edged closer – if it were possible – to the window sill. She heard laughter – children's laughter as they played in the middle of the snow-covered road, scuttling about in furry coats. Rima, the blonde girl that seemed to despise her so, stood firmly, watching. She seemed bored, unamused. Afraid. The other children were laughing. A girl with two brown pig-tails and glowing chocolate eyes was running back and forth, arms outstretched as if to catch the soft flakes that were falling from above.

Another girl, or a boy, came rushing forward, their long purple hair flashing in the dim sunlight. Eagerly they swept forward, kicking a ball that seemed to have just appeared out of nowhere. They passed it to another boy, one with short brown hair and shining green eyes. Yelling out a foreign word he sent it flying into a white bush. A short blond boy broke into a run.

Smiling, laughing.

Having fun.

Leaning back, she knew her wishes were futile. She could never join them, never be a part of their game. She was an outsider. She was different. She could only watch and observe. A sudden flash of blue caught the young girl's eye, and she immediately jolted upright, eyes feeling wide awake. They flickered through the snow, searching for the blue, searching for the colour...

And that's when she saw him.

Hidden away from the rest, as if observing the others play, stood a tall boy. His clothes looked thin and ragged, his black arms folded neatly across the chest. His dark blue hair looked ruffled and unkempt, and he kept shaking it, irritated by the ever-falling white around him. Amu suddenly felt a great urge to know everything about him – his name, his voice, his personality, his star sign…

She squinted, trying to see fast the fog that was gathering and onto his face. She had to see his face – his face, yes. That should be enough to fulfil her longing, her _desire._ She leaned closer and closer to the window, pressing herself up to it, seeing more, hearing more… was that boredom upon his face? No emotion that he felt -?

A loud snap told her the chair of which she was sitting upon had broken.

Landing with a crash the pink-head heaved herself up, lifting her head over the window sill to see if the boy was still there. He was.

_And he was looking at her._

Her heart fluttered. Creeping back up onto her feet she felt her own golden orbs being dragged into his. Those eyes, so mesmerizing, like pools of water… like… like sapphire…

Her eyes widened as she read the expression on his face. He didn't seem bored anymore, and he was looking at her in a peculiar way, as if he had just heard her fall. But he couldn't have – right? In his eyes flashed something that seemed unfamiliar, unusual. Amusement? Curiosity? She didn't know – but she was certain of one thing. One thing that could be shown to the world if only they were looking at him right then and there.

That little smirk of his said it all.

_He was a seriously messed up, however mysterious, perverted cat boy._

_

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_**The A/N that followed this chapter was removed due to brains, or lack thereof.**_  
_


	2. Of Rudeness and Riches

**Based on Markus Zusak's book, 'The Book Thief'.**

**

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Chapter 02  
_Of Rudeness and Riches_**

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_The woman turned back to her sewing, the other allowing her eyes to drift over to the small child standing in the corner. His bright golden eyes blinked at her curiously through long, dark lashes, his finger nervously combing through his brown hair._

_Suddenly a large grin crept up onto the boy's face, his eyes lighting up. He raised his arms, beckoning her to him. _

_And it was then, that she knew. _

_She knew what she wanted from this world, what she truly needed. A child, yes, that would do finely for her. A girl and a boy – perhaps a few more. And a husband, a companion, a lover. A family, she told herself, would be just right. _

_And steadily but surely, she wrapped her arms around the infant and lifted him into the air._

_Right then and there, she knew._

_

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_

Hinamori Amu had found something.

She had snuck away from church, the whispers and murmurings of her and her mother deafening her ears as her new parents gossiped away. Their daughter had given her funny looks throughout the service until at last she found she could bear no more speculative gazes. She had wandered home along the winding footpath lost in her thoughts.

And so there she was, standing in a snow-covered park, gazing down at something rather strange. Amu had always had a fascination with cloths, not because of their worth, but because of the possibilities. How a rag could become a dress, or a tattered scarf a belt.

So it came as no surprise as she found herself entranced in the dazzling knitted work in front of her.

Grinning sheepishly she crouched down low, her thick skirt scrunching up beneath her. Cocking her head sideways she examined it from afar. Should she rip it from its snowy hold? Or should she unearth it quietly, and make sure it was a treasure she wanted to keep? She crept forward cautiously on all fours.

She was so engrossed in her find, in fact, that she failed to hear a small curse above.

Failed to hear the loud snap or feel the unnatural white flakes brush across her hair.

She did, however, hear the unearthly thud as a large brush crashed into the ground.

Right on top of her prize.

The pink-head wiped the snow from her face furiously. Her cloth now lay forgotten under the brown mound, and the girl stood up cursing loudly.

"Well, that sucks."

A loud voice jolted her in her stance.

"Who's there?" she snapped, looking around.

Silence.

Amu suddenly became very frightened. There was no one around, so what if some tried to kidnap her? She would be taken, no doubt, and never be seen again. She shuddered at the thought. Pulling herself together she called again.

"I said, who's there?"

She looked up and screamed.

Peering down at her through long dark lashed were two pairs of sapphire eyes, both sparkling with mischief. Her own eyes widened with astonishment. Dishevelled midnight hair sat upon its head and dark blue locks brushed gently across its pale face, flawless features pulled up into an amused grin. It was a boy. That boy she had seen almost every day outside her window, the one who looked at her from down below.

She suddenly felt the need to protect herself from such a person, and so with a sudden rush of adrenaline she screamed and did something she had done to no other living creature.

Hinamori Amu punched him in the face.

With a yell the boy fell backwards into the snow, clutching his cheek.

"Holy shit! What's wrong with you, kid?" he roared, glaring up at her. "Do you do that often? Go around hitting people?"

Amu just looked at him. To be honest, she had no idea why she did that either. She watched blankly as he wiped his nose angrily before standing up straight and turning his back on her. He was tall, she noticed, very tall. Much older than her, probably.

"Stupid girls," he muttered, strolling off. "You fall out of a tree and 'bam'! They hit you. Stupid, stupid, stupid."

"You were in a tree?"

The boy stopped, startled by the girls question.

"Why do you want to know, arsehole?" he snapped, sending her another glare. Amu's jaw dropped. No one had ever, _ever, _called her that before.

"Excuse me? You're the arsehole. Scaring people like that, watching others through windows. Wait, you're not a child molester, are you?" she shot back.

The boy looked at her curiously.

"Window?" he questioned.

"Yeah, you," she said, cheeks becoming very red. "You watch me from the street where the other kids are."

He turned to face her, dark clothes contrasting wonderfully with the white around them. A large grin spread across his face.

"Oh, so _you're _the stalker in the window. Perverted arsehole, then."

"Yeah, that's right – wait, _what?_"

The boy strode towards her, her cheeks now a brilliant scarlet.

"Small kids like you should keep their eyes to themselves," he said in a menacing tone. Amu gritted her teeth.

"Shut up, bastard," she retorted.

"Arsehole."

"Jerkface."

"Dumbass."

"Idiot."

"Pervert."

"Perverted window freak."

"Looks like someone's running out of words," remarked Amu triumphantly.

"Looks like someone's got a vocabulary full of naughty words. Not only do you check out older boys and punch them in the face, but it seems your parents have some explaining to do."

Parents? Amu felt something snap inside, felt the tears well up. Angrily she forced them down. All she could see was red. Without thinking she lunged forward sending herself and the surprised boy into the ground before.

"You bastard, you swine," she was cursing, punching him as hard as she could. "How dare you – my parents? You stupid, ugly, jerk-"

"OUCH! Woah! Hey, watch –"

"Stupid, inconsiderate, dumb, idiotic-"

"Get off – mMPH – HEY! No, stop! Uurmph –"

"You piece of-"

"I SAID STOP, ARSEHOLE."

With a hard push the boy flung the enraged girl from himself, and she stumbled backwards, breathing hard. The red was fading, she realized. She suddenly felt very light and dizzy. The boy growled lowly and inspected his arms and legs, lifting up his shirt to inspect the damage to his torso. Already patches of purple were beginning to appear.

"Arsehole," he spat, turning his attention back to the girl in front of him. Amu's face went very red.

"Shut up, pervert. You deserved it. See? I could kick your arse any day."

His eyes flickered dangerously. "Are you sure about that?"

"Yeah," nodded Amu, not feeling as confident as she had initially thought.

"Sure?"

"Hell ye –"

Amu screamed as something hard collided with her face, sending her toppling to the ground. Her hands immediately reached up to cover her right cheek, tears forming in her eyes. In her blurry vision she could see that blue-haired jerk, fist still hanging in the air at which her face had been moments before. He was _smirking_.

"YOU BASTARD!" she shrieked, flinging herself at his motionless body.

Red, red, red. Hands and legs everywhere. Yelling and shouting. Swirling colours. A scream. Someone hauling her backwards, voices thundering in her ear. She couldn't stop. Someone had wound her up. She would never stop. She lunged once more, fists at the ready. Something hard on her arms, legs, chest. Couldn't think, couldn't move.

Silence.

...

Amu stirred, eyes fluttering open. Where was she? The smell of wood reached her nose – her room. Yes, she was in her bed. Soft, warm, _white_. As her vision cleared she suddenly became aware of a large figure towering over her. She fidgeted slightly in embarrassment.

"You got into a fight," was all the blond girl said.

"Yeah," said Amu meekly.

"You got into a fight," she repeated, "with Ikuto."

"Is that what his name was?"

The girl (who Amu suddenly remembered as being called 'Rima') ignored her before continuing her blunt analysis.

"No one's ever tried to beat Ikuto before. None of the kids have dared to." She turned back to the girl in bed, eyes boring straight into her golden orbs. Amu did her best to not show how intimidated she felt by the small blond.

She cocked her head sideways. "What do you mean 'the kids'."

Rima suddenly looked very self-conscious, biting her lip, her fingers tugging anxiously at her skirt. "Ikuto's always getting into trouble and stuff," she said very quickly, glancing at the door. Amu decided to change the subject.

"So you play football with the neighbours kids?" she asked casually.

The blonde's gaze hardened. "I don't play," she stated matter-of-factly. "Nor does Ikuto and Utau. We just watch. What, been spying on us?"

"No, I –"

"Want to be friends?"

This question caught Amu off guard. "Excuse me?"

"Do you want to be friends?" Rima's face was an expressionless mask.

"Um, okay," said Amu slowly, watching her closely. Was this the normal behaviour of the people on Himeru Street? Were they all as blunt as this? No one had been so 'to the point' as this girl from where she had come from. It suddenly became very awkward and Amu shuffled nervously under the covers of her bed. Rima piped up in the silence.

"Come play with us tomorrow?"

"Uh, you mean, down in the Street?"

"Obviously."

The back of Amu's neck began to prickle as she thought of that Ikuto boy she had met. He would be down there, watching like every other day. He would probably see her and pick a fight with her again. She couldn't face him – not after what had happened the day before. Maybe she should apologize. He was obviously an important figure of the Street and she didn't want to make enemies so soon. Maybe they could be friends...?

"Your face has gone all red. Is that a yes or a no?"

"Y-yeah," Amu managed to splutter out, forcing down the lump that had formed in her throat, "yeah, of course I'll go."

"Good. It's almost dinner time so you'd better get changed and come down quick. Pa's a bit angry after today's incident."

And with those comforting words the small blond turned on her heel and exited the room, long hair swishing behind her. Sighing the pink-head rolled out of bed and stumbled to the mirror. She touched her swollen face in frustration.

This was going to be one heck of a night.

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**I write short chapters =/**


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